


Another Game?

by Kov_SR



Series: Minecraft One-Shots [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: And During a Writing Marathon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, This Was Written Before My Brain Died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kov_SR/pseuds/Kov_SR
Summary: Every world she has been in, from its creation to its destruction, has always been the same.She will return the Eye to its rightful home, sitting on the frame of a portal to the End of the world.She has to.That’s the way it’s always been.
Series: Minecraft One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867576
Kudos: 15





	Another Game?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting during a writing marathon. I liked it enough to post it as my first story. Enjoy.

The forest spans before the eyes of whomever is lucky enough to behold it, with dark leaves swaying from equally dark branches that form a mosaic against the bright blue sky. The serene crowd of trees is occasionally broken by the rounded, gentle shape of a giant mushroom, either a vivid red dotted with white or a warm brown color. There is a river that divides the biome in two, wide and sparkling with the allure of riches – and yet those who look closer would see that the depths of the water breathe in an unsettling way, an unfulfilled promise that something in the bottom of the sapphire clutches like a pearl to its chest.

A flash of armor, the whistle of a bow – it calls the once serene mass to attention, and the trees straighten in interest, the leaves tremble in excitement against the sudden wind, the mushrooms bow in empathy – and the player is there, clutching a sword and a shield in her hands as she darts amongst the forbidding congregation. She is fleeing, fleeing something that is tall and dark, with eyes of a different world and an unhinged, screaming jaw. It flashes from one location to the next with its eyes fixed on her, leaving enchanting magenta dust in its wake.

The player manages to summon walls of cobblestone around her, giving her room to breathe and allowing her to pay attention to the gaping wound in her side. She gnaws on a flavorless steak, watching as the wound closes by some magic that is not possible in her world.

She curses herself. She should’ve known better than to come out without a water bucket, and she should’ve been situationally aware enough to not look the Enderman in its eyes: Two mistakes beneath a warrior of her caliber, a player of her experience. She fiddles with her gleaming white blade in annoyance, twiddles the string on a bow that she knows will be useless for this fight, and makes sure her shield is safely strapped to her arm as she prepares to break apart her self-imposed prison to face the tall, dark creature.

Once her wound has finished stitching itself closed, she chips away the cobblestone with an iron pickaxe, and nearly screams when the Enderman is standing right outside of her enclosure, purple irises locked on her in a crazed, enraged glare. It takes the seasoned veteran a moment to stop the shocked tremors rocking her body, every instinct in her body screaming for her to get away from the tall, rabid man. Swearing to herself for her momentary cowardice, the woman simply meets the paralyzing gaze of the creature, and thrusts her sword forward into its chest.

Thankfully, that had been the last blow needed to end its life; the Enderman dissolves into a simple puff of smoke, an anticlimactic ending for such a terrifying foe. The player breathes out a sigh that she hadn’t known she’d been holding, breaking apart the last of her stone prison to see a lonely orb sitting innocently in the grass.

She stares a moment at the eye that had been forever estranged from its home, before picking it up and rolling it in her palm.

As she meets the dead stare of a former enemy, a familiar pulse of determination runs through her: She will return the Eye to its rightful home, sitting on the frame of a portal to the End of the world.

She knows that is what will happen, because every world she has played in – from its inception to its death – has revolved around the Eyes from the beings of the End, from a creature that is truly gorgeous and hideous beyond comprehension at the same time, with magic in its breath and hatred in its heart.

The player giggles. “Another game, Jean?”

From the End of the world, a roar answers her question.


End file.
